The Sky in Silver Lace
by Girl Who Writes
Summary: …"So I'm thinking that we should savour every single moment, and not think about everything else." Silver Millennium drabbles.


**Title: **The Sky in Silver Lace - Peace

**Author:** Girl Who Writes

**Characters:** Andromeda & Rhea (Haruka & Michiru)

**Word Count:** 979

**Rating:** PG

**Genre:** Romance

**Summary:** …"So I'm thinking that we should savour every single moment, and not think about everything else." Silver Millennium drabbles.

**Notes:** Goodness, it's been awhile, hasn't it? XD I've been working on some seriously huge SM fics and from experience, I have to finish before I start posting, or I lose interest. And since I've got quite a few on the go at once, it's taking much longer than I originally anticipated.

So I decided to start this – a collection of one shots and drabbles from my Silver Millennium-verse, which varies slightly from canon, but this is the story I want to tell. It fits in the 'All In the Blue Unclouded Weather' universe. I'm aspiring to write ten. The girls will all be known by their Silver Millennium names or planetary name, depending on the fic. It makes sense once you read it, I promise.

In this fic, Michiru is Andromeda, and Haruka is Rhea. This fic was inspired by the song 'The Only Exception' by Paramore. I rather love Lea Michele's version.

**Disclaimer:** The characters of Sailor Moon belong to Naoko Takeuchi and Toei. I make not profit from this fan-based venture.

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><p>Sometimes she misses it.<p>

More often than sometimes, actually. But she won't admit that, even to herself.

She finds herself on the banks of the lake and sits down, ignoring as the mud seeps through her gown, and stares up at the sky, watching as the last streaks of pink and gold fade away. A breeze blows all her hair cross her face and she smiles and lies back, watching twilight fade into night.

It was so easy back then. Not responsibility, no rules or laws or family poking their noses in, with irrelevant advice.

She lies like that until long after dark, her white skin glowing against the dark, cool ground and folds of her gown – almost as if she is sinking, fading away.

"I was looking for you."

She rolls over, and smiles up at Rhea, her hand pillowing her cheek. Rhea cuts a fine figure out of the ridiculous dresses her mother used to bully her into – those bully tactics rarely work anymore, and the tunics and pants that had replaced them suit the taller girl – Andromeda often pondered who enjoyed them more; her or Rhea.

Rhea lowered herself to the ground and turned her face to Andromeda. "Everyone missed you after dark."

Hair falls into Rhea's eyes. It needs cutting again, the pale blonde tendrils falling past her jaw and just long enough for her to scrape into a ponytail, something Pandora finds hilarious.

"Do you miss this?" she asks quietly, looking back up to the sky.

"Lying in the mud after dark?" Rhea's eyes turn to the sky again.

"Being back here, in this …" Andromeda's brow furrows as she tries to think of the right word.

"Bubble," Rhea supplies. It's not the word that Andromeda was thinking of, but it works. Bubbles are shiny and pure, and so fragile but so transfixing. She remembers the bubbles that Ceto send her from home for her ninth birthday. They were every colour of the rainbow, and she, Rhea and Pandora had spent most of the day blowing them along the breezeway of the palace – their gowns had been soaked in streaks of magenta, turquoise and gold by the end of the day, but they had been so, so happy

"Bubble," Andromeda echoes.

"I miss it every day," Rhea replies honestly.

"I miss the quiet," Andromeda sighs, and curls against Rhea's side. "And the giddiness. We were so… young."

Rhea's arm loops around her shoulders and pulls her closer, her fingers tracing shapes over her back, brushing off the grass that has stuck there.

"I miss seeing you every single day," Rhea's voice is low and for her ears only and though a sweet smiles curls across Andromeda's face, she is sad. She feels like they are running out of time much faster than they should be, and she doesn't know how to slow it down.

"Now, I know I've heard you use that line on Setsuna before," Andromeda tilts her head back and meets Rhea's eyes. Rhea smirks, and the hand on her back dips lower, to brush the dress ties that are knotted at the small of her back.

"We've got another two weeks here together, so I'm thinking that we should savour every single moment, and not think about everything else." Rhea leans forward and brushes her lips against Andromeda's. Andromeda leans forward and deepens the kiss, suddenly not caring who might stumble upon them. When Rhea pulls back, her cheeks are slightly flushed, and there's a stunned but sneaky look in her eyes.

"And if we feel like getting maudlin and depressed that we're all grown up and there's going to be a war, I say we do it in bed. Together. With raspberry wine." That makes Andromeda throw back her head and laugh, clear like bells, and suddenly, there's sweetness and joy in life once again. And she sits up, her hands going to the ties of her gown, kicking her heels off … and Rhea is giving her a confused look.

"Let's go swimming," she says impulsively, unwrapping the layers of skirt that tie around her waist.

"Now?" Rhea sits up. "It's too cold."

"That just means you've been away from home too long." Her dress comes free, and it drifts to the ground, leaving her standing on the edge of the lake in her white undergarments, a jewelled band bright against one thigh, holding something thin and rectangular in place. Rhea knows that that band never comes off, that the ghosts that haunt Andromeda run far deeper than anyone would ever guess.

She wades through the reeds and disappears underneath the dark water; the glowing orb of Earth reflects in the surface of the water, and for a moment, Rhea loses sight of her amongst all the reflected lights. And then she appears again, her long hair loose and floating around her, a soft smile on her face. And Rhea knows that the peace, the gentle calm that Andromeda carries with her has once again returned.

They do not return to the palace until late, the Younger Princesses already sleeping; their clothes stick to their wet skin, and she has no doubt that in the morning, the attendants of the Palace will look at the wet, muddy pools of water that have run off their clothes and feet onto the marble floor in askance.

And as they slip upstairs to their quarters, peeling off sodden clothing, she decides that it doesn't matter about the war, about whatever comes to them, as long as there are still nights like this to be had. As long as there are small moments of peace, small joys like midnight swims and dark skies lit with stars, then everything will be okay.

And if not, well, there are only one or two things that Andromeda will take lying down.

Death isn't one of them.


End file.
